


Corrections

by LadyLaumes



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man 2 - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Dominance, F/M, Masochism, Punishment, Russian Mafia, Sadism, Submission, Whipping, slave - Freeform, whip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaumes/pseuds/LadyLaumes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the instances that lead to Whiplash's chosen nomenclature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corrections

**Author's Note:**

> ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.  
> After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
> 
> r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.  
> r/i/n - Reader's name in italics. Exactly what it sounds like. Ex: _Katie_.
> 
> Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
> 
> Enjoy ;3
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These past few months have been less than optimal. I suppose the primary reason is that I was sold to the sex slave trade in Russia and have been left to fend for myself after somehow successfully running away. Surviving without identification and with ex-KGB everywhere, ready to take me back to the man who bought me at first glance is just as difficult as it sounds. But this stash should fix everything. It should at least get me home. Or...get me back to the states so I can make a new home. I don't think the charred remains of my old flat would welcome me back very easily.

Heavy boots ring around the expansive airspace above me, signifying that my position in this warehouse is less that safe at the moment, what with their apparently spontaneous movement through these stacks of wooden crates and everything--  
"Hello little rat--!" Strong, rough hands dig into my shoulders and pull me away from  the cash and jewelry that I've been stuffing into my pockets for the better part of a minute. "What kind of idiot are you? Stealing from the mafia." His thickly accented laughter spikes out of his mouth as he's joined by another man, just as menacing, just as terrifyingly clad in tattoos and leather. Actually, I think one of these guys might have been one of the men I was sold to before Vlad took me permanently...or it was someone else who shared their generic, short, brown hair and slated, blue eyes.

"What should we do with her?" The second man asks. Nonchalant chills roll up and down my spine with his melodic speaking while I work around the first one's grip in a futile attempt to try and escape. All the man does is tighten his fist and bend me up by the front of my sweater.

"Fuck her. Wasn't she Vlad's whore?" Memories of his sneering face  race around the corners of my mind as I frantically claw at what sits sneering at me now; I fail to even graze him, unfortunately. "Slimy bitch that ran away." He sneers and pulls me close in the same way that Vlad did, tucking his thin lips over mine in a wet, unsavory kiss that leaves me finally wishing I had chosen to steal from someone a little less closely tied to my recent captors. I kick, subdued rage finally boiling up in the confines of my thighs, but he refuses to let me go and instead struggles to keep me lifted above the ground.

"I'm not sure you can handle her. I think we should give her to the boss."

"The big boss...?"

"No, idiot, the boss. The Whip."

"Oh ho ho, the Whip. Sounds...good. He hasn't had a toy for a good little while." The man shoves his mouth onto mine again, clearly just trying to frighten me-- _it's working_ \--before throwing me onto the nearest applicable surface, which happens to be the hard edge of a brand new wooden crate. Stifling a cry, I teeter over and fall into the motion of his push before each of them takes hold of my dazed arms and drags me up and through the maze of boxes that I completely passed over on my way here, leaving my limp and unruly body to drag along the dirty concrete floor. "Think he might even be pleased with us." The man laughs but his cohort stays silent, somehow unnerving me with even greater alacrity. He was, after all, the one who suggested time with this Whip guy as my punishment...and whatever it is, it must be less pleasant than rape.

"Let me go!" Stupid, yes, but it's all the fight that I can even still muster after all of my restless twisting and struggling. But they ignore me, keeping silent aside from the casual grunts coming out of my living pair of shackles.

Getting away from the night-time heat of the warehouse, the two men drag me along the dark planks of the pier. Despite how horrible this whole situation turned out, the breeze here is nice. It's oddly still for being right on the ocean, but it's...calming. Treading along the flooring with a jolly cobble, the men steer me toward the front of the compound, to the place where people _usually_ are.

What if that means there's more than one? What if "The Whip" is just some sort of code for gang rape?

Hopefully it _is_ just rape. After all, I did get to a point with Vlad where I could just block it all out. He never beat me though...so I don't know how to deal with it if it's physical pain...

"Here." The men open a side door to a barn-like structure, still dragging me along just as numbly as if they had already knocked me out. "Whip, we got somethin' for you." Along the walls of this tarnished workman's palace hang various sorts of metal working implements, saws--and _there_ 's the torture tools. Only took about a second to see the damned things. Hello little friends. Apparently you're the ones who get to bed me tonight.

But among these terrifying machines sits a man hunched over his workbench, head hidden from view by his thick, ebony tresses. The men shove me further in the smaller sectioned off area that he has holed himself up in and wait for the man's reply...or acknowledgment even. Despite the restless shifting of the men, he remains right where he is, tinkering away at something or other.

"Oy, boss--"  
"Wait." Twisting something in his hands, the man sits up a little bit, exposing the width of his back to me, before turning his partial attention toward the three of us with a quick flick of his neck. "What." All that I can make out is his profile and I'm more than a little certain that he's not able to see me...but regardless, that posture is giving me the worst kind of ache. Or best. Okay, definitely worst if I'm turned on at a time like this.

"We found her stealing shit from us." The man that still has a hold on me pulls me up from my sad state on the ground and shoves me forward to awkwardly tumble into the suddenly freezing temperature of the open flooring. Or... _apparently_ freezing. I don't think there's any air conditioner on in here..."Turn your pockets out, bitch!" One of the men (can only guess who) shoves his thick hands against me again, almost making me fall flat on my probably very disorientedly ugly face. Why am I even worried about how I look right now?--  
"Do not call her bitch." The man turns all the way around now, swiveling with a soft swishing sound atop his stool, and I'm set to stare at the ruggedly beautiful face that I've been missing out on all my life. I guess that worry was instinctual or something...why couldn't I have been _this_ guy's whore?

The men behind me once again fall to quietude as their superior stands and makes for me, power evident in each flexed tendon in his body. He stops right in front of me, shifting a stray piece of hair away from my face and breathes me in just like Vlad did when we were all lined up at the deal...some sort of communal indication of attraction, perhaps? At least this guy's handsome. A bit bulky, perhaps, but it's all muscle. Far better than having the thin bones of that idiot man grasping at me as--  
"She is Vlad's?" His sight trapes over the top of my shoulder to the men that still haven't left yet. What are they gonna do, watch?

"Was. She ran away."

"And came back...?" His tone is amused, like that crinkle in his deliciously chocolaty eyes.

"No." But my sad excuse for an argument dies shortly as he places his palm against the scalp beneath my ear, massaging the space in ways that nearly make my knees implode. "I needed money," I somehow manage to get out as he slips his other hand into the crook of my waist. Why in the world do they call this guy the Whip...? Because he gets beneath the skin of women as quickly as the flick of one of those infamous leather instruments? He's certainly gotten under mine...

"So you get job like rest of world." The hand that's rubbing with tender affections at my waist pulls into the pockets of my hoodie, draining them as I just stand here, utterly complacent. I mean, what would struggling do? That's completely the only reason ever, at all, that I'd let him just rob his stuff back from me. Clearly it's not his touch, or the way that he smells...almost metallic. Like heady flowers soaked in blood. Laced in vodka. "Retourn this. I will take care of punishment."

Wait... Punishment...? But he was being so kind--The Whip's heavy hand clamps down on my ear, dragging my squealing self with him as the others scoop up the mess he just made. Well. One of the messes.

"I never got your name."  
"I never gave it."  
"From Vlad, I mean." The darkness of the hallway that he's led me down illuminates ever so slightly as he opens a door to the soothing air of the pier.

"Why would you need my name from him?" He continues to drag me out back behind the barn toward another building: a grey cube suffering from the wear and tear of being right next to the salty spray of the ocean.

"I wanted to buy you from him." Sending crusty paint and broken dust crumbling over the doorframe, the Whip grabs at the door, slams it out toward us and shoves me in with a rough and vicious hand. "But he would not part with you. Too good, he said. Yet you run away. Why is this?" With me still in his grasp, he pulls the door shut and locks it just in time for me to realize that we're in complete darkness. He clicks his tongue with annoyance, twisting around my forearm with his calloused palm to get a better handle on me. "Why do you give good sex and run away?" The man tends to the light switch.

With a tentative flicker of illumination, I'm brought to the realization that there's only a spotlight treading down onto the stained concrete flooring, only a small section of the room that I can actually see...and unless my mind is trying to frighten me as much as the Whip is, there are _far_ more intricate torture implements in this room.

"I asked you question." He brings me to the light, tilting my face up so that he can see, _feel_ me quiver into his lightly gracing fingertips.

"I don't know...I usually just blocked it out..." His eyes are so unendingly comfortable...apparently sensing this, he tears the things away from me and steps back into the darkness, taking something off the wall and snapping it toward me--wisps of air trickle past my right cheek leaving me to think that that was supposed to sting. Right. The Whip. "I don't know! Honestly!" Starting to back up, I run into something hard and sharp (probably a saw blade?) and dart back into the light with helpless shivering preventing me from trying to make a run for the door. He _is_ right in front of it and everything but...I can't just let this guy tear me apart.

"Oh, no, you must be punished, devochka. If you are punished, I can take you for no rubles." He snaps the device again, past me this time, as he steps toward the light, teetering on the edge of the bright circle that dances on the floor. "If I punish you, you will be my reward." He drops the thing and comes at me with restraint as his purpose, groping to place my wrists into a set of shackles that have apparently been hanging around my headspace the entire time. Fighting my anxious kicks, the Whip wraps a commanding and forceful leg around me and succeeds in hanging me up like the slab of meat that he's insinuating that I am.

He steps away, appraising his territorial work with a pleased eye. Snapping slips past me for a final time as he lifts the weapon with his good hand: his left hand. Not sure why I can tell it's final, but it would be silly if he didn't actually connect with my skin sometime today-- _the hell_? Do I want this or something?

He steps around me, reaching the visual field that holds my clothed back--  
"Agh!" Pain sears into my back from no particular place as the rough leather cuts straight through the cloth and into my flesh. "Ow, ah," sipping air through my teeth, I hold onto the continued screaming that's threatening to pop out of my lungs; I can't give him the satisfaction. But...something else is bubbling inside of me now...ew, no, what?

I hear the whip clatter to the ground again, followed shortly by the clinking of metal instruments as the man behind me tarries around the room in search of the next best item. My hoodie begins to matte against my skin as it saturates in blood, stripes of stinging pain finally masking the way that my loins are so uninvitedly undulating.

"You will be naked," he grunts before walking over to me again and taking a large set of shears to my now torn clothing. "I only hurt you bad enough to make you understand that you do not run from me, loike you did to Vlad. Do not worry." Crinkles of his wet smile tickle in my ear as he cuts up the front of my shirt with quick, careless snips. The blunt edge of the blade rubs against my bare nipple on his next cut, eliciting from the depths of my throat a curious whine. Do I really, honestly like this?

"Ah--" the man presses his bare chest into my open sore, shoveling the fraying cloth into the swollen, bloody meat, "stop--" but my body gyrates against him, my posterior nestling into that most wanted crook of his pelvis.

"You do not tell me what to do, devochka. I am your owner now. I give commands, da?" He shoves the strong bone of his pelvis against me, letting me know that he seems to be enjoying this as much as I am. Though I suppose that he would have no objection to feeling this way right now...he _is_ the one in control, he _is_ the one that's going to own me--wait.

"You said you won't have me as a reward until I'm punished; not yours yet." His scissors clip up the lengths of my arms, stripping the rest of the sweater away from me and revealing for him the fact that I decided to go out without anything beneath what now lies in ruins on the floor.

"You do not feel punished with this?--"  
"Agh!" Shoving his unclean, calloused fingers into the open wound, the man chuckles behind me over a dirty moan that I really hope isn't coming from me.

"You loike this?" My hips pulsate with need as he wraps himself up against my body again and presses his salty skin into the wound, probably saturating his front with my life juice.

"Ow, um, no...please let me go...I won't do it again..." He rips away from me, making me squeal over his solid, echoing steps.

"No. You loike this. I continue." I can hear the silent spatter of the whip as it's picked up again, enticing me to ready my back for another slit to come crawling through my skin. He flips his wrist behind me and connects with my back, culling fresh pain from the hive-mind of my nerves. As soon as my scream dies out, the sting turns serendipitous and takes over my already slackened posture; my wrists wring in their metallic casings and my knees buckle in a most uncomfortable way. If I weren't chained up, I would most definitely be falling to the bloodstained ground. "Da...do you know my name, devochka?" The blood from what must be an 'x' that he's made in my back culminates into slow driplets that have begun to soak into my jeans, making them itchy and...well, a little more wet than they already were.

"N-no..." Some sort of electromagnetic cloud pushes in from behind me, raising the tiny hairs all over my body, as he walks back toward the center of the ring to likely tease me some more. Instead, though, he curls around to my front, pulling the whip taught in his hands and snapping it at me like he thinks I don't know how badly it hurts already.

"Ivan." The man tosses the whip back into the shadows to free his hands. With them, he begins lightly trailing his touch over the skin of my arms, the perfect antithesis to my currently reeling, soaking agony. "You say my name." His touch reaches the crook of my waist and presses upward, curving around the curl of my breast until he holds my nipples in between each set of his pinching fingers, warning against any disobeyance that I could be thinking up in my messed up little mind.

"I-Ivan..." His hands ease out over the soft bodily pillows that he was so ready to punish. Damn. I should have called him something else..."Why do they call you the Whip?"

"You must be dense woman. Have you not fully experienced why this is?" His roaming, docile hands pull up to my back to squeeze and prod at the damage that he's done.

"Ah! N-no! Stop!"  
"No? You need more?" Lopsided sadism stretches across his lips until the point at which my stunned silence propels him off toward the direction that he threw his apparently favourite torture implement.

"No--please, don't..." The wounds begin to throb and ache in strangely unpleasant ways as soon as he reinstates my awareness of them.

"No, little goirl. You will be punished until you know what has happened to you." He steps closer to me, reilluminating his darkened body until he's got his whip folded up and hiked beneath my posterior, hoisting my back into its proper posture. The Whip bends down just the bit that it takes to plant a sincere and lusty kiss on my wanting lips and breathe over his work in a creepily seductive way. "You will be punished until you feel my name engraved into the very core of your body." His lips meet mine again, swarthy rolls of his tongue pressuring in at my mouth and remaining there like he actually likes it. Like he'd rather just be romantically bedding me. With a flick against my upper lip, his tongue leaves me in much the same way that he does: quickly, efficiently, and completely without any more feeling.

He steps around me, releasing the folded up whip from the plush of my body's base and snapping it with a single split-second warning under my chained up arm. The tip of the instrument comes down to the concrete, clattering into the echoing silence of the room and making me more than a little aware of just how alone we really are. His rough, wet lips tuck around a patch of skin at my neck as his chest connects with the flayed flesh of my back once again.

"Ah! Ow, don't do that--!" Tilting my head so that he can get a better handle on my neck, I wriggle against the restraints as my body instinctually tries to get away from what's currently burning and stinging and--and sensually reeling down the tail of my spine--"oh, yes...Ivan..." Huffing out a curious, steely chuckle, the man slips his unoccupied hand down the front of my jeans, unbuttoning them with Vlad's efficiency, but certainly not with his lack of grace. Practiced fingers roll over my pubic mound and into my folds, the grime on his hands painfully wreaking havoc on the erogenous area despite how sopping wet he's made me. "N-no, stop, that hurts--" another pained mewl comes creeping out of the tip of my throat just before he slips the width of two fingers inside of me and begins to suck on the nervous, sweat-slicked skin that he's been nursing up until now. _He's already claiming me_.

"Mnn..."  
"Auuuhh..." The pain, the noise of him, _the sheer thought_ that he's enjoying this so much churns my innards and turns them all to anticipatory mush.

"Oohh...do you want me, dorogaya moya?" His lips lazily lilt up to the plush of my earlobe, rough whispers drawing from me even more light coos that serve as my answer. "Do you recognize that you are experiencing punishment?" Pursing his lips, the Whip breathes into the lake of saliva that he's left for himself, twisting the pleasure that's already coiling within my core. "Da." With another spicy chuckle and seductive slipping to my front, the man rips my pants down and off of me as roughly as he can, glaciers in the mahogany glance that he affects me with before he pulls back to the space behind me for my next phase of correctional treatment.

He waits for a moment.

And another moment, apparently. This is far more painful than any sort of slicing that he could be doing to me right now...I need to feel something Ivan--please--"AH!" Cutting clips of jagged pulling eke in at my consciousness but it's not until he makes the injury symmetrical that I can tell that he's just whipped into the fleshiest bit of my triceps. Embarrassing spikes of wetness percolate around the rims of my eyes at the feel before another pair of lashings staples into my shaking thighs.

"Do you feel it now?" Throwing the weapon as violently as it sounds like he can muster, he charges at me and grabs onto my body with lust gruffly echoing in his chaotic words. "Do you feel my power, goirl?" His hands roam around my unshattered anterior, gripping and grabbing in all the right spots to make me forget about how bad the sweat from his unwashed body is stinging at each of the cuts that he's inflicted on me. "Do you feel how enslaved you are?" He jerks my face back toward his with a cupping hand and slips his tongue up against mine again, forcing a whimpering moan to escape into the heated room from my tired throat. "Good..." Chastely kissing my lips once more, the man rights my vision and pulls his hands back to himself, removing the only thing between myself and the thing that my screams have awoken, not even bothering to extend the disrobing beyond his ankles.

"Mmnnn...da, Ivan..." His sullied hands, covered in grease, blood and cum, softly caress the roundness of my hips before he slips himself between my thighs.

"You speak Russian now?" Uninterestedly chuckling to himself, Ivan starts to run against my saturated folds, digging into them with the head of his engorged, pelvic appendage. It would seem that his massive girth extends to more than just the muscles of his body.

"N-no! Ah!" He pressures himself inside of my sheath, giving no fucks that Vlad was about half his size (maybe less--ow) before stopping and pulling right back out again. "What--what's wrong?" The Whip bends down behind me, picking his trousers up from around his feet and replacing them on his hips. Kissing the space behind my left ear, the man grins for a moment, muttering 'milyy' under his breath...what does that mean again?

Coming around to my front, the man exposes for me what seems to be the fact that I'm probably due to pass out from blood loss at any moment. Great. But that doesn't exactly matter. His lips are on mine again and I can't help but let my body melt and ooze into him. Right as I start to enjoy myself in the conventional way, he rips away from me again. Dammit, Ivan. Really?

Cleanly easing me out of my shackles, the man supports my waning strength and shifts us over to the closest workbench between the hard line of light and the pervading darkness.

"Auh!" Slamming me down front first onto the dirty table, Ivan pulls himself out of his pants again, this time committing to his nudity, and begins to work inside of me immediately, softly playing his fingers against the swollen ridges of my open wounds.

"Mmnn...Vlad kept you tight." His breathing shallows out, the depth of his open mouth apparent over his short breaths and grunts. The pain inside of me washes down with the juices that he's producing with every push of his pelvis until I'm overtaking his little moans with noises that are obviously arousing him even more. " **Da**."

Thrusting deeper inside of me, the man starts to bump me into and against the dusty work surface, imprinting on it what probably doesn't even accurately depict the shape of my body. A striking hand comes slapping down on the plush of my ass with an echo and two out of tune groans as blood from my wounds starts to drip down onto the shaking table. 

"Your name, devochka--" It's a request that is probably more untimely than anything else that's happened today, but I'd love to hear his tongue wrap around what I respond to.

"r/i/n--" A quip of a moan shoots out of my throat as I answer him, the table slamming into the wall with stunted crunching that barely reaches my ears over the fervent slapping of our exposed, violently heated skin.

"r/n..." He breathes it out as easily as the vicious air in his lungs. With another slap to my ass, the man grips into my hips and  drives himself over the edge with pounding that starts to cut off the circulation in my thighs. That actually might be a good thing considering the fact that I think I'm now standing in a small pool of my own blood.

With his steaming cum filling me up, he leaves me with a slick slip, unpleasured and yearning for his body to still be near me. But he won't come back to me and it's far too hard to move right now with all of this throbbing going on...I've really lost a lot of blood...my eyes lazily, dizzily scan around the table to assess just how bad it really is. As soon as my swervy vision hits the crimson-streaked backs of my legs, my master is back, wrapping his warm, bloody arms around me and lifting me like some sort of gutter-bred princess. 

"Now we stitch you up," Ivan chuckles in an uncharacteristically sweet manner. "You cannot do work that I want you to without enough blood--"


End file.
